Valentine Warner's new Hepple gin gets put to the taste test

Valentine passes me a glass of Douglas fir – one of the many components – which has undergone the aforementioned processes one and two. It tastes like a forest. But my palate just isn't sharp enough to detect the precise components. “Can you tell me what I’m supposed to be tasting?” I ask.

“Can you taste pine?” Valentine replies.

“Yes!”

“Can you taste melon?”

I panic. “No...”

“No?!” Clearly, I’ve disappointed him. “OK, well, that’s quite alright.”

We move on to the unripe green juniper element, which has undergone the vacuum distillation. “We pick them [between] June and September,” he says. “[They] should have that gin element, but greener.”

Greener? Oh yes, that well-known flavouring… I take a swig and stare at the table, concentrating on the pungent liquor is as it slips silkily, smoothly, down my throat. It tastes great - just don't ask me what of. “Don’t wrack your brains!” he instructs, when I tell him I’m trying to work it out. “It should basically taste like fresher, zingier juniper, and more of a kind of green, stemmy apple.”

"I’m getting all that," I say (truthfully, now he's told me what it is).

The penultimate vial is what he refers to as “weapons grade juniper”, the Macedonian heavyweight and the one used in the critical C02 extraction process.

“There should be lots of cedar wood and sandalwood,” he says, looking at me expectantly, like this will be ‘the breakthrough’... But again I stare back blankly. Because, how should I know what they taste like?

“It’s not often I go and gnaw on those barks…” I wail. I must be a lost cause.

Hepple is the brainchild of The Moorland Spirit Company, a five-man strong team headed up by Valentine and co-creator Nick Strangeway (an award-winning drinks consultant). “It took 2 years [to make],” Valentine says of the final blend. “Nick and I were banging our heads against the wall, and we destroyed masses of alcohol. On the worst day, three quarters cut by 9:47am. Nothing was good enough.”

But eventually a recipe was, and it can now be found bottled up in bars throughout London - from the Michelin-starred Harwood Arms and two-starred Le Gavroche, to The Cinnamon Club, The Wolesley, Hixs all over the capital, Zetter Townhouse and more. But getting it out there has been a slow process. “Slow’s not bad,” Valentine says, opening a walnut with his teeth (he snubs my suggestion of a nutcracker because wrestling with it 'makes him think'). “We want to get everything right.”

The project marks a new beginning for the chef, largely known for his TV appearances and cookbooks. He was launched into the public domain in 2008 through successful BBC series What To Eat Now and since then, has written a number of books – What To Eat Next, The Good Table – and hosted a variety of programmes for Good Food Channel. It seems the timing for this venture is spot on; at the close of last year, gin sales in Britain had reportedly reached a whopping £1bn. But Valentine insists the popularity of gin has nothing to do with it.

“This was very much not a decision of: ‘Ooh look! Everybody’s making gin’. Because frankly, why would you even bother? The reason we wanted to make gin is because of the processes that we had and the fact that we all liked drinking it. And we were absolutely convinced that [we were] going to produce something really, really good.”

On that note, we return to the really good drink in-hand, the final vial, the finished product, which, in its crystal clear form, seems unassuming, almost innocent even... That is until you taste it. Talk about 'Welcome to Flavourtown!' Sharp citrus, hot pepper, incense, juniper, pine, all rush around your mouth, like an exhilarating botanical rollercoaster, leaving behind an incredible aftertaste. The whole thing is quite extraordinary.

A week later, I turn the sample bottle Valentine had given me into a martini. Once sufficiently chilled, I can't believe it - even more of the flavour comes through. Hell, I can even taste sandalwood...

hepple-gin.com